Love is the Death of Duty
by ConstructiveRomance
Summary: There was a grudging truce established between them in the library. [warning for unrequited]


**Love is the Death of Duty**

It began slowly, unfurling in a way that he didn't even notice until it was too late. Once he had expressed concern with Severus Snape about killing Dumbledore, the man cryptically assigned some study and reading, insisting that he needed to have impeccable grades this Summer.

That was where he saw her. Every evening, like clockwork, she would settle in for hours on end of scribbling fervently onto feet long parchment. At first, this irritated him to no end. He sent her scathing looks, muttered disparaging comments underneath his breath and occasionally knocked her books onto the ground. Not once did she retaliate. It was like he was a fly, buzzing around her, as she distractedly swat him away.

Although he did not publicise it, Draco was quite a competent student. He would be top in the year in a couple of subjects if not for the insufferable Gryffindor swot. Draco had endless curiosity that was bound to get him killed, particularly in the upcoming onslaught. One evening, exasperated by Snape's latest assigned reading on dark material, he finally gave in and asked her what she was working so tirelessly on. It couldn't have been homework all the time - they didn't get assigned that much.

After her initial shock, she did answer him. Gradually, they began to speak more about school topics, different elements of homework and the best methods in potion. They never spoke of anything else, but Draco still acted like she was an inferior being, often condescending and rarely complimentary.

It was the simple fact that she never rose to his bait, always taking the high road, that first earned his grudging respect. She never agreed with him when he lightly teased her friends inability for academics.

All in all, Draco was horrified to realise that she treated him most of the time with something akin to kindness. He wasn't entirely certain anyone else in this school had, free of ulterior motives. He didn't understand it, why did Granger not want to see him suffer? Did she not feel a thrill of superiority to see him falter? Maybe he was the weak one. Did his own happiness rely on the misery of others?

Draco was unsettled by these thoughts.

This troubled him, but what disconcerted him to no end was how undeniably intelligent she was. He had always been peripherally aware of her bookworm nature and incessant thirst for knowledge, but Draco always assumed this came from a life lived in the library. While she spent many hours there, he was now entirely convinced that she had a natural capability, an innate quickness that could not be picked up from a book. She grasped concepts with little explanation, expanded on them within minutes and extrapolated things he had never even thought of.

How could she be inferior?

The combination of these questions led Draco to avoid the library for a week. He was letting Snape down, but the looming epiphanies and contradictions in his values were too overwhelming for him to confront at this time in his life. Draco was still fielding questions from his father regularly in letters on his progress with killing the principal of his school.

The longer time went on, the more flabbergasted he was by this request from the Dark Lord. Albus Dumbledore was the only wizard that could go head to head with the Dark Lord and walk away unscathed. The Dark Lord himself had tried to kill him numerous times and failed. He tried to outsmart him and failed.

Now, he expected Draco - a sixteen year old - to kill the most powerful wizard in Britain? Maybe a contender for the world?

"Malfoy, is everything okay?" Draco realised he was standing solitarily in a corridor, staring into the distance in a dramatic and ominous fashion. Blinking to focus his vision, he was horrified to see Granger standing in front of him. She looked almost concerned.

It was disgusting. Fueled by that, he responded, "Are you worried, Granger? How touching. Not everyone needs you to babysit them like Potter and Weasel."

She blinked, as if taken aback. Why was she surprised when he was harsh towards her? Did she expect them to be friends? Yet, he so desperately wanted to please her in that moment, to ease the trouble in her expression, that he added, "I've had a lot on my mind. I'll see you in the library soon?"

Granger nodded, and he could see the intense urge she had to ask him a dozen questions about that. Just when he thought he would have to avoid and dodge her curiosity, she simply nodded and walked away. Smart.

Some part of him couldn't help the disappointment she left in her wake.

It was a couple of weeks later when they strayed from academic topics again. There was an unspoken agreement between them always to keep conversation strictly to school related subjects, a clear understanding that anything further than that was dangerous and incompatible. Draco was enthralled though, he wanted to know more. He longed to understand what she saw in the two idiots she put up with, and found himself wondering what her hobbies were, or the little things she liked. Did she like the breakfast at Hogwarts, or think it was unhealthy rubbish like Draco? Did she read muggle or magical fiction? Likely both, he assumed.

This fascination was beginning to get out of control but she was so different to anything else he had experienced. None of his friends spoke to him candidly about his theories and arguments in his homework, nor did they openly roll their eyes and huff at his responses.

Few people remembered that he liked sitting in the light of a window, eager to get some of the sun that the dungeons of Slytherins so eternally lacked. Granger left that seat free, every time, once she realised. Fewer people noticed that he couldn't stand the cobwebs of the upper shelves of the library, but more than once she reached up and grabbed one for him to circumvent his trouble.

Draco didn't want her kindness. It wasn't welcome.

He didn't know what prompted her to try transition their uneasy truce to friendship, but it violently clashed with every bone in his body. No matter this temporary infatuation, they were not friends, they could not be. Even if he started to notice how pretty she was when she talked passionately about a theory, or how her hair was actually attractive in a wild sort of way, and something about her made him watch her until he noticed and snapped out of it.

Draco was underlining a correction in his essay when she broke the silence, treacherously asking, "Have you met him?"

Playing dumb, he swiftly returned, "Him?"

Granger glanced around, wary of any eavesdroppers. Hanging around with Potter made people paranoid, he noticed. "You know… Voldemort."

Draco tried to keep the flinch from his features upon hearing his name, but the fear and anger the name evoked had him lashing back at her, "Do you think you're special saying his name? Typical Gryffindor arrogance."

Her eyes sparked with irritation, "It's a name, Malfoy. The sky isn't falling down around us."

As if she hadn't spoken, he continued, "And what do you mean have I met him? Is this your clever way of implicating my family, having us all locked up? Do you want to see the Dark Mark on my arm - is that it? Afraid I'm planning on ambushing you after stealing the secrets to your potions essay?"

Granged looked surprised, and he was somewhat proud to see her momentarily speechless, "This is clearly a tough topic, I never should have asked. Maybe you should try answer your own questions though."

"That doesn't make any sense, stop trying to be cryptic," Draco snapped, but it no longer held any malice. The tact in her response deflated him and he only felt a hollow sense of remorse and conflict.

The next night they met, Granger brought him a book she thought he might enjoy. To Kill a Mockingbird. It was written by a Muggle, so he threw it in his trunk and vowed to remember to give it back in a few weeks. He would say it was drivel and nonsense by a narrow minded Muggle, they would argue for a minute, and that would be it. No need to sully himself with their fiction.

He needed to show her power of wizarding prose though, and brought with him an old favourite of his next night. Part of him felt oddly nervous, as if this was some sort of statement but Draco reassured himself enough times that this meant nothing.

He arrived at the library, his stomach unpleasantly unsettled and his palms oddly sweaty, only to find his place taken. Sitting directly across from Granger, whispering something that caused her to smile and nudge him away, was his nemesis. The boy who wouldn't die.

Draco thought he hated him already, but there was something about this scene that caused him to itch for his wand. Unable to help himself, he stopped by their desk, "Finally discovered the library and stopped emotionally blackmailing Granger into doing your work then, Potter?" Before the boy could splutter out an indignant response, he turned to her, "And Granger - maybe if you spend enough hours here you'll be worthy of someone's time. That's all anyone keeps you around for, right?"

She glared at him, fierce and unflinching. Potter made a move toward his wand but she steadied his hand, "Go away, Malfoy."

Feeling inexplicably winded, he forced a scowl and retreated to the furthest desk from the pair. As he walked, he heard Potter whisper loudly to her, "I thought you said he was different in the library.."

Draco couldn't say why it felt like betrayal that Potter was aware of their nightly study sessions. It wasn't the first time Weasley or Potter had joined her in the library, but for some reason, this night ignited an annoyance in him that he reacted to without thinking.

He spent the next several nights studying in the Syltherin common room, unable to stop thinking about why he was a mess of emotions seeing her with Potter. Draco saw them all the time together, they were best mates. There was a dark part of him that saw the truth for what it was.

That was _his_ spot. Granger saw Potter all the time, but that was Draco's time. He needed it to learn all he could, become better for the Dark Lord.

Intelligent and self-aware as he was, Draco knew there was the possibility he was jealous. That was why tonight he was going to kiss Granger and prove that he felt nothing for her. That the only feeling he would possess after touching the lips of a mudblood was revulsion.

As he sat across from her, he repeated this to himself. If he was repulsed, why was he so nervous? His heart was swooping in his chest, but not from fear… was that _excitement_? Draco watched her openly as she studied, finding the way she hummed and spoke to herself endlessly entertaining. Something was wrong with him.

He moved chairs to sit beside her, eliciting a look of surprise, "Malfoy, what are you doing? Are you starting to get sick from so much sunlight?"

"Ha, so you do have a sense of humour." He rubbed his sweaty palms on his trousers, hoping she couldn't see how nervous he felt. Granger looked at him expectantly, hoping he would explain why he moved. She was so trusting, open, willing to believe. He knew somewhere deep down that Granger hoped she could help him, change him even.

There would be no changing him, he knew his fate. Draco knew his duty in life.

Words failed him, and he gaped like an idiot for several seconds before taking the plunge. He didn't need words to explain what he was feeling. Draco swiftly placed his hand on the back of her head and brought them closer together, passionately conveying everything he felt, pouring it into the kiss with great gusto.

Her hand was on his chest.

She was pushing him away.

Dread immediately started to seep into his bones as she wrenched free, her expression startled and shocked. Granger absently touched her lips, watching him with wide eyes, "Malfoy, I-I don't think that's a good idea."

"Who cares about good ideas? Let's have fun."

She dropped her hand then, her thoughts coming back into focus, "You don't like me, you're just lonely and confused. Why can't we be friends, not study buddies?"

He scoffed, "Granger, don't be so incredibly naive, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm naive?" She asked, incredulous, "You, a Death Eater, tried to kiss me, best friend of Harry Potter."

His eyes whipped around the library, "Would you be quiet? It was a moment of madness, don't dramatise it.."

"I can help you," She replied eagerly, taking his hand. Her eyes were earnest, her grip firm, "Let me protect you, you could be so much more on the right side."

Draco wrenched his hand from her grasp, "Give it up, Granger. You can't even protect yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've no idea what is about to hit you from the Death Eaters. You've been in, what, one battle?"

"You've no idea what _you're_ talking about," Draco could see her annoyance building, and he didn't know why that thrilled him but it encouraged him to respond.

"I thought we could have some fun before we all died, sorry I forgot Hermione Granger is the antithesis of fun."

"A bit of _fun_? You still think I'm inferior, don't you?" She demanded of him, furious.

Draco now had the startling recognition that he had gone too far. He spluttered, "I-I don't know what you want me to-"

"I want you to answer the question, Malfoy. Do you, or do you not, think I'm inferior because of my blood?"

Silence. There was nothing he could say. He felt an overwhelming sense of remorse as she closed her eyes, hurt painted across her features. Why did Draco feel like this? Why couldn't he laugh at her hurt and move on?

He swallowed thickly, hoping she couldn't hear the loud gulp of nerves. His heart was still beating erratically as time slowed down, painfully making him more aware of the extended silence. Draco wanted to grab a time turner and force himself to keep his mouth shut. Everything was ruined.

Shakily, she finally responded. While looking at her quill thoughtfully, "The arrogance of thinking you could kiss me, use me, not see me as a human being of equal if not more measure."

Hermione stood, and with a quick swish of her wand all her belongings fell into her bag, "If you want to study again, I'll be here. Do not try that again."

Dualities in his personality began to battle for dominance - how dare she call him arrogant, speak like that to him, as if she had a right to?

On the other hand, he wondered how he would look her in the eyes again, how he could refrain from throwing himself at her feet and begging for forgiveness.

His worst nightmare happened a few weeks later after a trip to Hogsmeade. A scheduled meeting with his father ended in several hexes, bruises and a bleeding lip. Draco had made no progress and that had not pleased his father or any of the Death Eaters with him.

With his hood up, he skulked back into the castle, keeping to the walls and making sure his head stayed down. Draco's vision blurred in front of him, blood dripping from a wound on his head, and he swiped at it haphazardly so he could see each foot move in front of the other.

Without warning, he felt himself being grabbed and pulled into a room. The door was closed and locked before Draco even had his wand out. He was not doing well. "You don't need your wand. Sit here and stay still."

It was her. Maybe it was Pomfrey and he was just delirious, Draco couldn't be certain. His head was swimming and his whole body ached, "Granger?"

"Yes, god, what happened to you?"

"Fell," He said flatly, not bothered to come up with a convincing lie. Draco allowed her to gently dab at the blood crusting around his eye, then at his head wound. She reached for his busted lip and he recoiled, unwilling to visit unpleasant memories with her. It seemed she understood because she didn't try again.

Draco heard her murmur some spells and then her fingers massaging some kind of lotion into his skin, "You should report this, honestly, Malfoy. Something very wrong has happened here. Are you okay?"

"Fine," He supplied, finding himself oddly unable to speak.

She paused in her ministrations, "Maybe we should go to the hospital wing, I don't know very many healing spells, only simple -"

Draco caught her hand, "No hospital wing."

Granger didn't answer him, but she did continue trying to heal his wounds and after a few minutes he began to feel the flooding warmth of magic. The ache in his body melted, which meant that only a startlingly heavy exhaustion remained.

The absence of pain caused him to exhale in relief, and he would later be annoyed at his inability to appropriately express gratitude, "Thank you, Granger."

She frowned but then let out a breath, "Don't mention it."

As it turned out, neither of them mentioned it ever again.

The rest of the school year picked up and they spent less time in the library together. Potter came with her most nights to the library and he had to start making plans with Severus in the evenings.

If he was honest with himself, he'd admit that they had come too close to genuine friendship, and it terrified them equally. There were not meant to be friends, and he couldn't fall victim to the naivety he accused her of. Distance was all that could save them from a lifetime of guilt and 'what-ifs'.

* * *

Things snowballed on Draco after that. He was agreeing to things he never wanted, pliable to the wants and needs of whoever he was speaking to, and spent his nights wide-eyed in fright. Severus had insisted he trust him, said that he literally had no choice but to make sure Draco succeeded but he figured that was flowery speech and in the end, he could only rely on himself.

However, when the moment presented itself, Draco shifted a look to Severus and watched with undisguised shock and gratitude as the man killed Dumbledore for him. They didn't fool the Dark Lord for a moment. Afterward, he was sent on a series of suicidal missions that Draco often spent just trying to survive, never mind furthering the Dark Lords goals. If there was one thing he understood it was self-preservation.

The Dark Lords rants mentioned her nearly every time. He wanted her dead, killed on sight, she was a powerful tool for Potter and without her they could catch him. Killing her would make Potter weak, he insisted. She was the epitome of everything they were fighting against; mudbloods not knowing their place.

When they received word of the pathetic trio's whereabouts, Draco was one of the first names the Dark Lord ordered to the room. Draco's firsthand knowledge of them was valuable, he claimed. Draco wanted to insist that he was the weakest link, he couldn't conceive of confronting her with the intent of handing her to this monster. This was his purpose though.

He was protecting his family. He was protecting his interests. Draco would follow through on any plan because he had to.

He was the last to apparate to the clearing, and already the other Death Eaters were storming the tent and dragging the teens up from their slumber. Potter was on watch but fallen asleep and missed them coming, his reflexes were fast in pulling out his wand but they were faster. He was disarmed unsettlingly quickly, but was saved by Weasley quickly disarming that Death Eater and throwing the wand back.

Draco _loathed_ to admit that Potter's dueling skills were impressive.

"Draco - get the girl!" Dolohov barked, pointing at the retreating figure of Granger. It was unlike her to leave him during a fight and his interest piqued. Draco caught up to her in minutes, and raised his wand to stun her when she spun around.

"Let me go," Her words tumbled out of her mouth in an almost incomprehensible rush, each word melting into the other, "You need this to end just as much as us."

"Bailing on your friends? Not very Gryffindor of you, Granger." She looked different, older, bedraggled in a sad way. Probably as exhausted as he looked. Her hair was matted in parts now, no longer wild and vibrant. Draco resented the pang of pity and guilt that rose in him, and quickly trained his wand on her. "Come quietly and you'll be okay."

"_Okay_? You know that's not true. They'll kill me, Malfoy, use me as bait. You hate me." She poured an intensity into the word hate that made him uncomfortable.

He noticed the beaded bag she clung to with her non-dominant hand and gestured to it, "Hand over the bag and come quietly."

"Please, Draco," Hearing his first name on her lips startled him. A range of emotions poured through him as his mind raced, wondering what he could possibly do next. He knew he needed to stun her, maybe throw a stinging hex, and bring her straight to the Dark Lord. Draco knew what he needed to do. "If you let me go, we can end this. We're so close."

"They're gone! Malfoy, Potter and Weasley are gone.. Apparated. Search the tent." Draco's heart sunk as Dolohov approached, his fingers curling into a victorious fist as he realised Granger was still here, "Time to have some fun. Good job, Malfoy, we'll have Potter in no time."

It was the first time Draco had ever really seen the Death Eaters from an outsider perspective; the unnerving mask, billowing robes and crackling voice. He didn't know why, but fear prickled at his senses.

Granger blocked Dolohov's unforgivable before they fell into a duel. Draco stood unmoving, only able to feel and process the thundering beat of his heart in his ears and the somewhat vague notion of doing something right.

His life was a series of expectations and failures. Draco never lived up to his father's name, to his legacy, what he was fated to do; like a prophecy proved to be fallacy, Draco came up short on what was scheduled for him. There was no time to debate, process or write a pros/cons list. Draco had to act, and the staggering resolute sensation that rose within him was almost foreign: do what is right.

"_Stupefy_,"

Granger stumbled back a couple of steps in shock, sweat glistening on her forehead that she wiped absently, her breath loud, short, intimidating.

"What are you - that - _thank_ _you_," She glanced around, most likely looking for the two idiots, but then focused back on him, "Come with us."

"Granger," He replied, tired, "Go."

She blinked, ready to argue, when there was a rustling behind them. Heart erratically beating at this stage, he turned back to her and in a frenzy fired some spells, purposely missing her. He hissed repeatedly, "Go. Go."

Hermione nodded rapidly, edging away from him, "You're not a bad person, Draco Malfoy."

Draco wanted to respond but she was gone. He stared at the empty spot, vaguely aware of someone approaching. He tried to steady this shaking of his hands, the unevenness of his breathing before turning to his comrades.

"She got away."

* * *

A/N: A more contemplative piece maybe. Sorry to Dramione fans, no real romance here.

'Love is the death of duty' of course is GoT and does not belong to me.

Reviews are lovely if you would like to leave one.

Thank you for reading!

CR.


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